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The Dance	By : LisbetAdair Category: +A through F > Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Views: 2366 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Modern Warfare, nor Call of Duty, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Dance
- 2-February
- 1
- 2
Chapter 2
I’d imagined myself being happier, but the truth was that I didn’t feel any different. I suppose I’d been thinking about it for so long that it was a bit of an anticlimax. The meeting itself was just a formality. If they had really wanted to bin me, they would have just done it. Still, protocol has to be observed: innocuous small talk, and some bog-standard questions about my physical and mental health. At the end, they asked me what I thought as if anyone really gave a shit. Of course I wanted back in, otherwise I wouldn’t fucking be there.
I’ll admit it: I’d expected something. Instead I’d got a quick handshake and found myself back outside in the freezing February drizzle. Welcome back, Sergeant MacTavish. I thought, to myself, of course. No one else seemed to care much. They hadn’t even told me which troop I was going to be joining; although I suspected that no one was fighting over me, just in case being the sole survivor was going to turn out to be a chronic affliction. I might as well have had fucking herpes.
With nothing better to do, I set off towards the canteen. Now that I was officially back in, I felt they at least owed me a free brew, and being honest, now that I was behind the familiar barbed wire, I realised how much I’d actually missed the place. Nothing seemed to have changed much, and if there wasn’t a neat circular hole in my thigh and a fuck-ton of bad memories, I could almost convince myself that none of it had happened at all.
“All right, stranger?”
I lurched forward at the unexpected slap between the shoulder blades and turned to see a familiar face grinning wildly at me.
“Tony!” I exclaimed “Jesus, mate. You nearly scared the shit out of me there!”
He laughed, a big, booming sound. I remembered Tony: B squadron veteran and most favoured with the oddball assortment of Regiment groupies. It was easy to see why: a Glaswegian Italo-scozzesi, last son of a frying mafia, he had the Mediterranean good looks and the local roguish charm that only occasionally descended into chib-waving rage. I had liked him, even if we'd not crossed paths too often.
“I tried to get into the meeting, but some dozy bastard fucked up the schedule.” He continued.
“Oh?”
“Did they not tell you that you were joining us?” His brow furrowed.
I shook my head. “No one fucking tells me anything.” I shrugged.
“Ach! No one you’ve got a face on you like a slapped arse! That’s no fucking good!” He shook his head. “Come on, we’ve got some time for a chat. I’ll bring you up to speed.”
I had never been so glad to see Tony in my life. Not just because he was the bearer of good news, but because getting me out and into the pub was life-saving. I’d been going out of my nut in the flat, numbing my mind with day-time telly, but no matter how far I tried to push it to the back of my mind, I found myself being constantly reminded of last week’s error of judgement.
After the post-orgasmic haze had settled, an awkward chill had come between us: a cocktail of latent guilt and unfamiliar surroundings on my part, mostly. I’ll admit that Riley was, at least, a gracious host, even if I declined his offer of a shower, and answered his tentative enquires into my weekend plans with non-committal grunts. Finally, he flat-out asked for my number.
“I don’t think that’s a great idea, do you?” I had said. It was a loaded question, and I’d designed it that way.
“Whatever.” He replied, shrugging. He put his hands on his hips, and I suspected that if he hadn’t been completely naked, he would have rammed them deep into his pockets to give the impression of casual flippancy.
I had looked him up and down, and the image had burned itself into my memory, coming back to haunt me whenever my libido peaked: the broad, rippling expanse of his stomach, his no-fucks-given expression and his strong thighs with what lay in between them. I lay in my bed that night and it was all I could think about. There was something about Riley, something that excited me in a way that previous anonymous fucks hadn’t. I tried to tell myself that it was just the thrill of doing something that I shouldn’t with another Regiment boy, but this wasn’t the whole truth. There was something about him, something dangerous, and it turned me on in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
As I lay there, pumping myself into another lonely, sticky oblivion, I knew that I was in too deep. I had been thinking about him every night that week, and it was burning me. I hadn’t even considered what was going to happen when I saw him next, so when he swaggered into the saloon surrounded by his bawdy squad-mates, I nearly choked on my pint.
As I spluttered and honked, my new mates finding this hilarious, I realised that there was nothing I could do about it, no where I could hide and sure enough, as I blinked through my watery vision, he was staring straight at me. Our gazes locked, and he gave me a curt nod of greeting.
I looked away, making like I hadn’t seen him, and laughed nervously along with the others, pretending to mock my inability to manage my own drink. When I looked back, he had turned away. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Whatever it was that I’d got from Riley, I’d got it bad. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, every beat sending another tidal wave towards my cock. He was leaning over the bar, his arse thrust out like an invitation to me, its twin curves of muscle bulging beneath the denim. A chunk of memory smashed over my head: my hands spreading those cheeks, clutching the firm muscle in my grip-
“Oy!”
“What?” I jerked.
“Are you all right?” Tony looked at me quizzically. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Aye.” I replied, laughing to cover my nervous embarrassment. “Something like that.”
I made my mind up as soon as I got home: I had to get out of town, had to flush Riley right out of my system before I went back to work. Of course, this was easy enough to say, but trying to find a short-notice hook-up was easier said than done, which is why I was now watching the Welsh countryside flash past at ninety miles per hour as the train hammered towards Cardiff and the promise of sexual oblivion.
Whilst I’d been limping around in rehab, I’d heard that one of the saunas had been gutted and everyone seemed to be raving about it. I wasn’t getting my hopes up, but a wee bit of research had thrown up that there was a gym practically next door, and in my experience that usually attracted the sort of thing I’d be interested in. Lulled by the gentle rocking motion of the carriage, I drifted slowly into an idle daydream of the firm flesh that I imagined awaited me.
Of course, fantasy and reality are two completely different things. The truth was that whilst the surroundings were, as promised, vaguely pleasing to the eye, the contents less so. I walked past several skinny wee twinks that must have been just skimming over their eighteenth birthdays, and some locals who I considered to be well past their sell-by date. My dreams of a muscle-bound Adonis fresh from pumping iron were slowly crumbling, until I reached the sauna room itself.
The dry air burnt my throat as I crossed the threshold, leaving a lingering taste of musk, sweat and pine in my mouth. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the gloom . Draped in shadow, a naked body was lounging along a bench on the far wall. My eyes took in the swell of muscle on the thighs, the firm, flat torso, and my cock immediately jerked awake.
I took a deep breath and sat down on the bench opposite, staring into the darkness with what I hoped was a look of smouldering sexual hunger. A little spark of excitement started in my stomach when I watched him shift his weight, and his face came into view.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I exclaimed, jerking back.
Riley regarded me disdainfully. “Practising my crochet.” He drawled, and then continued “It’s a bloody bathhouse. What do you think I’m doing?”
I looked away, feeling stupid. “Fuck’s sake.” I muttered.
“Yeah. We could’ve car pooled.” Riley’s lips curved into a sarcastic smile, and he sunk back into his previous position, propped up against the wall, one leg bent on the bench adjoining. I tried not to look, but a dirty-gold beam from one of the moody uplighters cut across his body, highlighting what lay between his legs.
I was glad of the darkness around me, because even with the dry, hot air of the room, I could feel the flush of embarrassment rising into my face. I knew I should stand up, and walk right of there, but somehow I couldn’t. Instead I watched a trickle of sweat, glistening in the low light, slowly travel over the skin over his chest, and mentally ran my fingers along its path.
“Fuck.” I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but I did. It came out as a breathy, trembling whisper.
“Is that a preposition?” I couldn’t see his face, but I could imagine the smug smile, the raised eyebrow over his hooded eyes, as he said it. He was obviously loving this. I flashed immediately back to his expression on the bridge, his tongue running over his teeth as he appraised my flesh, and the hunger in his eyes.
The subtle throb in between my legs had evolved into a massive fucking hard-on. I could rationally protest all I liked, but my cock knew what I really wanted, and I couldn’t hide it. I might as well have been waving a big flag emblazoned with “Fuck Me Because I'd Really Like That” on it. As I thought this, he reached down with his left hand and cupped his balls in the palm of his hand. Almost absent-mindedly he began to stroke himself, teasing the fine, reddish hair between his fingers.
I knew he could do a lot more with those hands and that cock, and I was thinking, really hard, about it. The blood was pumping through my body, rushing through my ears with each heartbeat. I felt dizzy in the heat of the room. I had been thinking about little else but his cock for days, and how it would feel inside me, as Riley’s powerful body thrust it between my cheeks.
He stood up, his sudden movement jerking me out of my dreamy wanderings. I hadn't even noticed it, but my hand was working its way around my own cock, signalling to him what my stubborn pride wouldn't consciously let me do. I swallowed, my throat dry from the scorching air, as he stood before me. I watched his strong fingers clasping his, the veins bulging beneath them. A drop of pre-cum balanced precariously on the head, glistening invitingly as it caught the light.
I didn't need any encouragement. My self-conscious embarrassment forgotten I leant forward and wrapped my lips around him, the salty-sweet taste of him, and his heady musk reawakened a slew of memories from the week before. I closed my eyes and reached around his body to clasp the hard muscle of his arse between my hands, driving his cock into my mouth. He moaned.
Gripping the base of his cock with one hand, I pulled back and licked gently at the head, tiny, cat-like laps of my tongue over the parts I remembered to be the most sensitive. I didn't want this to be over too quickly.
“Fuck!” he said, the word starting as a soft gasp, and ending as a stuttered giggle as his body twitched.
I felt his hand running over my head, his fingernails dragging through my hair and scraping across the back of my neck. I shuddered, my back arching. His face was in shadow as I looked up, but I knew he was enjoying himself as much as I was, so I carried on, getting myself into a good rhythm that I knew was teasing him: sucking him hard until he gave a tortured moan through clenched teeth, and then withdrawing back into more gentle attentions.
Eventually he snapped, pushing my teasing tongue away and pushing me down, encouraging me onto my back. Yes. My own cock was rigid with anticipation as he bent over me, his mouth over my tit. He drew it hard between his lips, teetering on the cusp of making me gasp with pain. I caught a flash of his face in the light as he wiped away the rivulets of sweat running across it, and saw the ravenous desire in his eyes.
I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sensation of his tongue slithering across my chest and his hand fumbling between my legs. I opened them wider, and he slid his hand around my balls, squeezing briefly and gently before he delved into my arse. I gasped as he pushed a finger inside. My body tensed involuntarily, and then relaxed as he started to firmly rub his thumb over the spot beneath my balls.
I was in such ecstasy that I didn't even notice anything amiss until I felt the sudden, sharp cold against my skin. I tried to twist away, but Riley had pinned me with his free arm as he dropped the ice cube between my legs. I could do nothing other than bite back the scream as he thrust it again the delicate skin of my arsehole.
“Fuck!” I growled through my clenched teeth. I couldn't shift Riley's weight from this position, no matter how much I squirmed, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to. The biting cold of the ice juxtaposed against the arid heat of the sauna on the rest of my skin was intense -too intense- teetering on the knife edge between pleasure and pain. I couldn't control myself, and was appalled at the mewling whimpers that I was making as he rubbed it slowly along my inner thigh.
Eventually, he dropped it, and I heard the cube skitter away over the floor.
“You're a sick bastard.” I wheezed, but he just laughed.
I lay there, exhausted from fighting him in the heat. When I opened my eyes, he was kneeling on the bench at my feet, determinedly slathering his already sheathed cock with lube. An electric surge of excitement shot down my spine, crackling over my skin. I'd been thinking about this for days, and my cock was rigid with anticipation. I swallowed, painfully and nervously, the hot air had scorched my throat. I tried to lick my lips, but my mouth was too dry.
His face was in shadow as he leant over me, drips of his sweat falling on my chest. I felt the pressure of his cock between my legs, the lube deliciously wet and warm as my arse yielded and he slipped inside.
I gasped as he pushed passed the tight muscles at the entrance. He was a big lad, and the feeling of his cock filling me, sliding over my prostate was incredible. For a moment he rested there, letting me relax and adjust to him. I reached up and gripped his arm, feeling the swell of the muscles there, rock-hard beneath my fingers. Slowly he began to draw back, and I moaned.
My cock was jammed between us, the head sliding over Riley's sweat-soaked stomach, further adding to the swells of pleasure as he started to push into me again. He heavy breaths caressed my skin. This close I could smell the lingering scent of his cologne, an earthy, wild smell that I remembered from before. I breathed hungrily, filling my lungs with it.
He started to find a rhythm, and I knew he was being deliberately slow, but not just for my benefit. From his laboured breathing, I knew he was close, and it gave me a thrill to realise that he was trying to savour the experience of fucking me.
His cock found the edge of my prostate again, and this time as I moaned, he pushed hard into me. I bellowed, unable to control the sound, my body writhing with pleasure as he drove himself deep inside me. I felt his arm jerk and realised that I was dragging my nails across the skin, hard. He thrust again, just when I wasn't expecting it, developing a syncopated rhythm that kept me off balance. Each plunging shove was getting me closer, and it was driving me wild.
Finally, something in him snapped. The irregular, grinding strokes started to smooth out into an increasingly rapid thrusting. I could heard him grunting above me, but I barely noticed. I couldn't control myself anymore. His body was ramming into mine faster and faster, and my moans became bellows as the nebulous pleasure started to coalesce into a throbbing surge. I gritted my teeth, and came, screaming, as Riley collapsed onto my chest.
We lay there, spent, for a few minutes, Riley's exhausted gasps brushing over my soaked chest as flashes of purple swum across my vision. I knew I'd feel different later, but in that moment, I regretted nothing.
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The Dance